


Every One Counts

by FunkyinFishnet



Series: The New Normal [6]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Crossdressing, Friendship, Genderfluid Character, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Slash, Male-Female Friendship, Relationship(s), Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-23 12:37:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2547728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunkyinFishnet/pseuds/FunkyinFishnet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paris Ltd has landed some impressive collaborative contracts so there’s going to be a compulsory social with their new partnership companies. Athos realises that therefore Milady will be present, though he’s relieved that his old friend and ex-girlfriend Ninon will be there as well. D’Artagnan worries about meeting them both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every One Counts

**Author's Note:**

> This fic also features mention of past Milady/Athos and past Ninon/Athos. Also there's hints of Aramis/Porthos/Ninon.
> 
> Huge love and thanks to breathtaken, who let me bounce ideas off her :) I wrote this because my Ninon-muse was most insistent :)

 

 

Treville broke the news – there was going to be a business social at the end of the week so that Paris Ltd could celebrate its successful deals with a couple of overseas companies, deals that had brought in a lot of lucrative work. The social was compulsory. D’Artagnan, feeling comfortable in a navy-blue suit and white shirt, thought that it sounded like fun. Paris Ltd had done a few business socials since he’d joined the company, somebody usually gave a speech and made a toast, there was always a ton of alcohol and really good food. Aramis was good for a laugh at them, charming everybody and making valuable connections which he invariably used to make sure that Treville’s department continued to thoroughly impress. Porthos usually supplied Aramis with drinks and sniffed out who was a poker fan amongst the crowd in order to organise a few games. He'd organised a trip to Vegas once.

 

D’Artagnan turned to talk to Aramis but found his friend exchanging worried doom-laden glances with Porthos. And Athos was stonily staring at Treville, looking like he very much wanted to drown himself in the nearest pub. D’Artagnan bit his lip and carefully touched Athos’ knee, not wanting to startle him. Athos didn’t seem to react for a moment, then his fingers intertwined with d’Artagnan’s, gripping tightly. Constance wasn’t around to explain things to d'Artagnan; she was out somewhere discussing the terms of an important contract.

 

There was no way d'Artagnan could ask questions until the meeting finished because Treville would definitely notice and d’Artagnan got the strong feeling that this shouldn't be talked about in public. He'd learned the recognise the signs. Porthos nodded at him and d’Artagnan saw how Treville’s gaze settled on Athos more than once. When the meeting was over, he called Athos into his office. Athos slowly let go of d’Artagnan’s hand, touched d’Artagnan’s lapel distantly like he was steeling himself, and then walked off without a word. Okay, worrying.

 

Concern spiralled through d'Artagnan because he’d only ever seen Athos get like that because of one person.

 

“Come on.”

 

Aramis and Porthos didn’t say any more until all three of them were inside the breakroom and the door was shut. Aramis looked tense; Porthos rubbed a hand across Aramis' shoulder and poured coffee.

 

“So Milady will be there,” Aramis said abruptly. “You probably guessed that.”

 

D’Artagnan nodded, his insides squirming as he thought about the woman who made Athos tear himself apart even when she was absent. The social didn’t seem like fun any more.

 

“She’ll probably not tell you her name, to try and get you to tell her what she wants to know, it’s what she did when we first met her,” Porthos said ruefully. “And watch what you say, she’s good to spinning things to hurt Athos and anyone he cares about.”

 

There was a story there but Porthos wasn't telling it, he just looked grim and furious at some awful memory. D’Artagnan wet his lips, thinking about how glassy and unseeing Athos’ eyes got on his worst nights, when he couldn’t talk about the woman he’d loved and maybe still loved a little bit. Hadn’t d’Artagnan’s mother said that when you fell in love, even if you fell out of it again, a bit of that love remained? Like a splinter or something bigger. Milady always sounded so effortlessly powerful, like a refined force of nature, so good at tying Athos up in painful knots, someone who refused to be cast aside or ignored. She’d hurt Athos and she’d hurt his brother and it turned out that she’d been interested in Paris Ltd’s secrets too from what Constance had told him. D’Artagnan frowned, putting the pieces together.

 

“She works for one of the companies we’re partnering with?”

 

“Right, and rumour has it that she’s working for Richelieu as well, off the books of course,” Aramis sounded weary, never a good sign. “Not that we can prove he’s trying to undermine our department.”

 

Because Richelieu, head of the other highly-successful Paris Ltd department, took his work extremely seriously and used his influence over the boss, Louis, very efficiently. He’d been an old friend of Louis’ father and Louis had known him growing up, it was hard to break that bond. D’Artagnan had heard the rumours – that Richelieu wanted to gut Treville’s department but Louis liked the work that both departments did and so far, Richelieu was stuck sharing priority contracts with Treville. Milady working for Richelieu on the side made a lot of unfortunate sense. D’Artagnan felt sick.

 

“And she can work for another corporation, after what she did?” he managed, voicing something he’d never managed to ask before because talking to Athos about Milady caused more harm than good.

 

Porthos drained his coffee and didn’t look happy, his cuffs unbuttoned and his tightly-curled hair seeming wilder than usual.

 

“If I was interested in getting slung out of here for libel, I might say that a very powerful friend of hers probably got her record expunged or covered up.”

 

D’Artagnan’s eyes widened, Richelieu could do that? Or maybe Porthos meant another highly-powerful friend of Milady’s, from what he’d heard she was very good at manipulation and making powerful grateful friends. Perfect for the corporate world.

 

The door opened and Athos stormed in, Porthos immediately handed him a coffee. Athos nodded his thanks and sat down heavily, close to d’Artagnan. There was a tight strain around Athos’ eyes that d’Artagnan wanted to kiss away. He wanted to wrap himself around Athos and hold him and listen and know what to say, like Athos had so often done for him.

 

He curled a hand around Athos’ wrist, like an offering, and Athos sloped towards him, their heads pressing together, hot breath mingling. Aramis sat down opposite them, arranging himself halfway across Porthos, practically in his lap, like he needed the tactile comfort.

 

“What’s the word?” asked Porthos bluntly, eyes trained on Athos.

 

“Apparently I don’t have to attend the social,” revealed Athos, not sounding thrilled. “But everyone knows it’s compulsory and I’m sure our partnership companies have told their employees the same thing…”

 

D’Artagnan’s heart clenched and he shifted closer to Athos, because he spoke Athos now and Athos was saying that he didn’t want his emotionally-vicious ex-wife to know how much she affected him, that she affected him so much that he was ‘unprofessional enough' to no-show a compulsory high-profile corporate event. Aramis was shaking his head.

 

“Fuck her,” he said, in a way that made Porthos crack an amused grin. “I'm serious, she wants you there where she can keep an eye on you until you say something that she'll make people view as unfortunate at best or defamatory at worst or until you start drinking again. Treville's given you permission to avoid jumping into that fire.”

 

Athos wrapped an arm around d'Artagnan. “And it'll only give her and Richelieu ammunition if I'm not there. Nobody stays the whole night, so I won't.”

 

Aramis still looked unconvinced and Porthos was frowning like he was about to argue against it too. All d'Artagnan could think about was how gutted Athos always looked whenever he talked about Milady and how much worse it'd get when Milady was actually present. D'Artagnan reached out a hand and squeezed Athos' forearm. Sometimes when d'Artagnan felt untethered and shaken, Athos didn't say anything, he just sat with d'Artagnan and waited with him. Maybe if d'Artagnan did the same for Athos it'd help him too.

 

It didn't matter that the social would be the first time that d'Artagnan would be meeting Milady. Had she planned that somehow? How much did she know? D'Artagnan's insides twisted but he forced his worries away. He shouldn't be focusing on that, Athos needed him.

 

Porthos was speaking. “I mean it, you find yourself reaching for a complimentary wine, you get out. We'll cover for you and so will Treville. We can give Ms De Winter a target if she wants one.”

 

Athos smiled faintly. “You'll be in good company. Ninon called me just now to say that she'll be there too.”

 

Aramis brightened instantly, sitting up. “The Countess. Oh, fantastic!”

 

“Ninon,” d'Artagnan murmured, trying to place the familiar name. One of Athos' old friends, wasn't she?

 

“The estimable Ninon De Larroque,” said Aramis with relish, his eyes dancing. “She runs the Every One Counts think tank and survived business school with Athos.”

 

That was it, d'Artagnan remembered hearing stories from Athos, how fondly his mouth twitched whenever he talked about Ninon. D'Artagnan remembered feeling jealous but glad as well because Athos had revealed that Milady had been coldly furious about Athos' friendship with Ninon and Ninon had refused to back down. D'Artagnan had decided then that he liked Ninon and he'd heard more stories from Aramis and Porthos that only backed up that opinion. Constance liked her too, which said a lot. Maybe Ninon being present would distract Milady, maybe that was why Ninon had decided to attend the social.

 

“She'll love you,” Porthos told d'Artagnan. “Actually mostly she'll love telling you stories about Athos that she won't tell anyone else.”

 

Athos chuckled, sounding a bit more like himself, and d'Artagnan decided that he definitely liked Ninon. She was, according to Athos, a very singular woman who specialised in researching and publishing studies about gender and sexuality in both very noted journals and the popular press. Ninon was determined and a very good friend to Athos, despite the fact that they'd tried dating and it hadn't worked out. Athos had dryly noted once that there'd been a stretch of months when, thanks to Milady, he'd been unable to drag himself to any of his classes so Ninon had taken notes for him and had extensively tutored him so that he'd gotten the pass marks he'd needed and this was after Ninon broken up with him. No wonder she got on well with Constance, together they could probably take over the world.

 

So d'Artagnan was determined to like her but he still felt more than a bit intimidated.

 

Athos brushed fingers through d'Artagnan's hair with the sort of need and fondness that made d'Artagnan press closer. His stomach was rolling but he ignored it. This was not about him and he wasn't going to let Milady make it about him. If Athos was determined to go, then d'Artagnan would be there and so would Aramis, Porthos, Constance and Ninon. Milady didn't stand a chance.

 

D'Artagnan's stomach didn't stop rolling though.

 

*

 

There wasn't any shortbread left in the cupboard. D'Artagnan frowned and reached for a KitKat instead. It'd do, he needed something to distract him. He'd called his mum already, just to talk things through. Their relationship was pretty good, she didn't really get the whole gender fluidity thing, but she was trying, which was something. She understood dealing with destructive exes though and supporting friends and boyfriends. She'd told him not to push himself too hard and not to worry himself out of sleep. She knew him well.

 

Constance called him when he was folded up on the sofa. “Jacques is already designing you a suit and dress for the occasion, just in case.”

 

Something warm unfolded in d'Artagnan's stomach, whatever happened at the social he'd look good and feel just as good in his skin. He unbuttoned his shirt at the neck and ran fingers through his hair, feeling lost in thought. Athos hadn't called him since work had finished, his meetings had overrun and Porthos had sworn that he'd keep an eye on Athos, of course he would, and he'd pointed out that Athos wouldn't want d'Artagnan missing out on dinner or whatever he had planned that evening. Porthos and Aramis would make sure that Athos didn't go straight to the pub and start racking up a bill.

 

“D'Artagnan.”

 

D'Artagnan started a little. “Thank Jacques for me.”

 

“There's a strong chance that Athos will drink and disappear into himself and Milady will act like she's the only one who truly understands him while she casually tears you apart,” Constance's tone was stark and biting, full of what she'd been through when she'd encountered Milady. “But Aramis will make sure that no one notices and Porthos'll keep Athos from falling over and Ninon and I will-.”

 

“I know,” d'Artagnan burst in, his thumbnail digging into his shirt. “It's...I know how hard he takes it, I mean, I see how she makes him feel.”

 

And he hated it, he hated how utterly hollow Athos looked. He'd stopped meeting with her regularly but that didn't mean that he didn't still think about her. D'Artagnan still thought about his dad and he'd died several years ago, the pain was still there though, just like it was for Athos. It'd driven Athos to drink and some pretty awful self-destructive behaviour that'd hurt his friends. If D'Artagnan could take Athos' pain away, God, he'd do anything. Athos sometimes said the same thing, whenever he saw d'Artagnan low because his body didn't feel right. Yeah.

 

Constance stayed quiet for a bit but she was right there.

 

D'Artagnan's phone bleeped with a message alert, it was probably Athos. Even the thought of Athos made d'Artagnan smile because it was Athos and Athos had contacted him, Athos wanted to talk to him.

 

“Can I call you back, Constance?”

 

“You'd better.”

 

There was a smile in Constance's voice that made d'Artagnan smile wider. Then a beat and Constance's voice was firm and warm and he wished she was right there with wine and cupcakes but she and Jacques were having a date night and d'Artagnan was waiting for Athos and it was pretty incredible that Constance was talking to d'Artagnan during her date night.

 

“Milady is Athos' past, d'Artagnan, I know he still thinks about her, but he doesn't wallow, not like he used to. He keeps choosing you.”

 

D'Artagnan thought of when Athos had told him that he was going to stop regularly meeting with Milady, d'Artagnan had been so pleased for Athos. It had made a difference, that hadn't changed. Athos was still choosing him.

 

But “What about-?”

 

“Ninon and Athos have always been better friends than anything else.” Of course Constance knew what he was still worrying about. “She's hired Jacques a lot, as has Milady.”

 

That made d'Artagnan splutter in surprise. “Hold on, Jacques designs clothes for Milady?!”

 

“He's a businessman, d'Artagnan,” though Constance didn't sound thrilled about it. “She never gets her fittings done here and it keeps her satisfied for now, thinking she's got a bigger hand in Athos' life than she actually does.”

 

Okay but that still sounded completely uncomfortable. D’Artagnan said so and before she hung up, Constance didn’t disagree.

 

*

 

The days flew past after that. Athos didn't disappear exactly, he still spent a lot of time outside of work with d'Artagnan, but he did sort of _fade_. He still slept beside d'Artagnan, he still held d'Artagnan close and kissed him. D'Artagnan pressed just as close, kissing reassurance and need into Athos’ skin.

 

They didn’t talk about it really, just veiled references as they worked and spent time together, until,

 

“Are you all right, d’Artagnan?”

 

Athos was lying beside him and looking at him carefully. D’Artagnan glanced at Athos, what had caused that question?

 

“I’m fine?”

 

Athos thumbed the corner of d’Artagnan’s mouth. “I meant about the social tomorrow.”

 

Ah. D’Artagnan bit his lip and Athos curved a hand to d’Artagnan’s cheek. Everything felt in sharp focus between them, in a way that it hadn’t for several days. D’Artagnan shrugged a shoulder.

 

“I’m not looking forward to it,” he hedged.

 

Athos nodded, keeping his hands on d’Artagnan, stroking lightly and reverently. It made d’Artagnan feel warm and almost spoiled, because Athos’ attention had been on something else recently, which was understandable, but it felt really good to have that attention back. D’Artagnan pressed into Athos’ touch firmly, his body communicating what he couldn’t. Athos was waiting, wrapping d’Artagnan up into a meaningful hug. It made d’Artagnan shudder and sigh.

 

Eventually he spoke, words practically whispered in the dim light.

 

“I don't want to be something she uses against you.”

 

Athos made a noise and ran a hand down d’Artagnan’s body, “Since the divorce, Anne has used every aspect of my life against me. It’s never personal, not for her.”

 

“I know, that’s why…I don’t want to be something else, collateral.”

 

D’Artagnan sounded frustrated and he really hoped that wasn’t petulance he heard in his own voice but Athos kissed him, like Athos himself needed the kiss as much as d’Artagnan. D’Artagnan scrabbled on top of him, needing the skin-on-skin intimacy. Athos’ moans revealed that he felt the same way, his fingers twisting urgently in d’Artagnan’s hair.

 

They stayed that way for some time, frantic and needy, like they’d both been hit by the same storm. Eventually they slowed down enough to talk, d’Artagnan’s words brushing against Athos’ lips.

 

“I don’t want to be something else that lets you down.”

 

Athos’ grip on him tightened. Wordlessly, he pressed a kiss to d’Artagnan’s mouth, it felt like the firmest kind of declaration. D’Artagnan wondered what Athos was thinking about – Milady? Ninon? The times he’d spent drinking and missing college? D’Artagnan?

 

“You’re going to be there with me,” Athos said at last. “That’s not letting me down.”

 

There were stories tucked away in Athos’ words, had Milady caused him to drink at those kinds of events before? Had she pushed him further? What had Ninon done? D’Artagnan bit his tongue to stop himself from asking.

 

Athos touched d’Artagnan’s chin and kissed him again. D’Artagnan wasn’t sure when they fell asleep, he remembered shadows lengthening across Athos’ body and more kisses and hips rocking and the kind of pleasure and satisfaction that he’d been craving.

 

Athos was still there in the morning.

 

*

 

When it came to getting ready for the social, d’Artagnan picked the charcoal suit that Jacques had made for him. It felt right against his skin and it looked good with a creamy-white shirt unbuttoned at the neck. Athos was wearing a dark suit too with black cufflinks that looked like knots. D’Artagnan touched one with a questioning finger; Athos adjusted the other one with a small telling smile.

 

“A gift from Ninon, she thought I might like to wear something personal but also completely unassociated with Anne.”

 

Ah, a good idea. D’Artagnan nodded and fussed with his hair. Ninon again, being Superwoman like Constance, solving problems and being strong and prepared like Athos needed. Her body and mind were probably all joined-up.

 

D’Artagnan’s mouth twisted, Ninon had clearly been a great friend to Athos. She’d helped him out of the terrible-sounding hole he’d dug himself into when married to Milady and she’d stayed his friend afterwards, despite the fact that they’d dated and it hadn’t worked out. She was important to Athos and d’Artagnan would never make him give that up, because apparently that was the kind of thing Milady had done and d’Artagnan was all for good supportive people surrounding Athos. He just…sometimes, he really didn’t think he was good enough for Athos, for the man who’d been through so much and deserved a relationship that wasn’t fraught with d’Artagnan’s issues. Athos said that he loved d’Artagnan, that d'Artagnan's gender didn’t matter to him.

 

D’Artagnan sighed and stared into the mirror. He felt good in his suit, because Jacques had cut it very nicely and Athos was looking comfortable in his own skin, not like he was going to start looking for the nearest exit. Good. That was what mattered. D’Artagnan mentally shook himself, this was about Athos getting through tonight and not giving Milady or Richelieu any ammunition. And Athos wanted d’Artagnan there.

 

*

 

The social was being held at an expensive statement of a restaurant that'd been hired out for the night. All the tables had been rearranged so that there was room to sit down or stand up and plenty of elegant buffet-style food. Constance was already there, wearing a green knee-length dress, with Jacques beside her, gesticulating about something. Aramis and Porthos were chatting to a mixed group, causing lots of laughter. Treville was talking to Richelieu; it looked like a heated discussion. Athos squeezed d’Artagnan’s hand; he looked like he was bracing himself. Right, he hadn’t seen his ex-wife for a while.

 

D’Artagnan kissed Athos’ cheek and murmured in his ear, “She’s got no chance.”

 

Athos squeezed his hand again and led d’Artagnan over to the food. That was safe territory and d’Artagnan could sense Constance, Jacques, Aramis and Porthos all idly glancing over, checking. It made something settle in his stomach. He and Athos were discussing the merits of what looked like some kind of prawn dish involving a spiced sauce when someone strode up to them. Athos’ smile was small but genuine and there was a beautiful woman, dressed in a pale gold dress that suited her colouring brilliantly, her blonde hair half-twisted up. Her smile was sharp but warm and she accepted a hug from Athos and a kiss on the cheek.

 

“Well, this just became a much more interesting evening,” she declared, her gaze immediately swinging towards d’Artagnan.

 

Athos wrapped an arm around d’Artagnan easily. “Ninon, this is d’Artagnan, which I’m sure you know already. D’Artagnan, this is Ninon De Larroque, quite easily the most dangerous woman in this room.”

 

Ninon laughed lightly and held out a hand to d’Artagnan, she had a powerful handshake. She almost immediately tucked her arm through d’Artagnan’s and looked past Athos slightly.

 

“Constance is taking charge of you, Oliver. I’m kidnapping d’Artagnan.”

 

Athos turned slightly to find Constance there, right on cue, and before d’Artagnan could say anything he was steered away by Ninon. He’d been right; Ninon and Constance could easily take over the world.

 

Ninon sat him down at an empty table; there were already a few empty plates and glasses covering it. D’Artagnan wondered who’d been sitting there before; Ninon was looking at him, her arm still looped through his. Her eyes were very clear and piercing. D’Artagnan tried to imagine facing that gaze when completely hungover, like Athos no doubt had done many times before.

 

His insides hurt, for Athos in all that pain, for Ninon being faced with trying to push Athos out of that every day.

 

Ninon leaned close suddenly, her smile slight and amused, almost flirtatious, not that d'Artagnan had any idea what Ninon looked like when she was flirting.

 

“Anne is here. Smile and look over towards Jacques, we're talking about the dress he made me.”

 

Too stunned to do anything else, d'Artagnan turned his head with a smile to try and spy Jacques. There he was, talking with a couple of girls that d'Artagnan recognised from accounts and just at his back, as though waiting for her turn to speak to him, was a woman that d'Artagnan didn't recognise. She was wearing a dark-blue dress and holding a wine glass. She was also incredibly beautiful, striking even, like a painting, too astonishing to be real. D'Artagnan quickly turned back to Ninon, his heart thumping.

 

Ninon raised an eyebrow slightly, “She'll want to talk to you but I'll make sure you're otherwise engaged.”

 

D'Artagnan chanced a glance across the room again. Porthos was talking to someone d'Artagnan didn't recognise and he was drawing Athos into the conversation. Athos looked involved, nodding and occasionally saying something but he was standing too stiffly and he was deliberately not looking away from Porthos. D'Artagnan licked his dry lips.

 

“He knows she's here.”

 

“Which is probably exactly what she wants,” Ninon shook her head. “Oliver can hide what he's feeling from most people but when it comes to Anne, some things will always be too raw for him.”

 

D'Artagnan nodded absently, then frowned because something had just properly registered with him. “You call him Oliver, and her Anne.”

 

Ninon's smile became amused, “Those are their names. At least, Anne was the name she was using when I first met her.”

 

When Athos had first met her too. Was it her real name? If not, why not? People changed their names for so many reasons.

 

“And I've always called Oliver by his first name. I've often thought it's good for him to hear somebody not use his name as a weapon.”

 

That was a thought – Athos only hearing his own name when it was used as some kind of taunt or leash by Milady. Athos hadn't given d'Artagnan that much information about what he'd been like at his lowest when involved Milady and afterwards, but the little details that Ninon was revealing were certainly painting a picture. It reminded d'Artagnan of how strong Ninon had been and still was and how lucky Athos had been to know her back then. Her attendance hadn't been compulsory tonight but she was still there.

 

D'Artagnan grasped her hand suddenly. “Thank you, I don't think Athos would have gotten through any of this without you.”

 

Ninon wrapped her fingers around his and smiled softly and intently. “Thank _you_ for what you've done for him.  I've never made him look as happy as he looks around you.”

 

While d'Artagnan let that little titbit sink in, Ninon's words became quieter, “Anne's watching us. She's seeing you and I flirting shamelessly in front of Oliver. If she comes over, pull away as though you're worried about being seen so close to me.”

 

Ninon laughed a little as she finished, like she'd just been telling a funny story. D'Artagnan smiled with her and tried not to look around because that would have been a giveaway, wouldn't it? His mind felt like it was racing, he wondered if this was one of the reasons why Athos had drunk so much, to escape all the things he'd had to worry about while Milady was around.

 

Milady didn't venture near d'Artagnan and Ninon for a while. First, Aramis and Porthos came over for a chat, bringing plates of food and scandalous gossip from Aramis – all retrieved with a smile and the best interests of Paris Ltd at heart of course. He kissed Ninon's hand, a gesture that would have looked ridiculous from anybody else, while Porthos kissed her high on the temple, affectionate and winking. D'Artagnan was definitely going to ask about that later.

 

Treville came over to talk to Ninon – apparently she'd been implementing some research that Treville was interested in using in one of the department's current projects. Ninon was professional and forthright about her findings and knew Treville's wife apparently, asking after her and the children. Treville seemed more relaxed, drinking beer, though his suit didn’t fit him quite right. D'Artagnan grinned to himself; he'd been spending so much time around Jacques.

 

Athos came over to talk once or twice, his hand resting gently at d'Artagnan's shoulder, like he needed the physical reminder, the anchor of d'Artagnan's presence. D'Artagnan leaned into him, receiving a small strained smile in return. Right, Athos was probably incredibly aware of Milady's presence and of the fact that she was looking to twist any move he made or word he said against him somehow.

 

Ninon seemed cool and contained with everybody, she only seemed properly relaxed with Athos, Aramis and Porthos. D'Artagnan could see that now after sitting next to her for an extended period of time, he could see the difference between how she held herself with acquaintances compared to with friends. She kept a hand on him, on his arm or his leg, small touches for an audience. According to Porthos, she commanded a lot of respect thanks to her work and how she carried herself. D’Artagnan could believe that, he felt in awe of her.

 

This was what Athos needed.

 

“Excuse me.”

 

A purposeful voice blew through his thoughts. Ninon was talking to someone from one of the other companies, a researcher d’Artagnan thought, so he was left staring at Milady. Her expression had softened somehow and she was looking at him like she was hoping he’d talk to her. It was very disconcerting, considering what he knew about her.

 

“Yes, hi,” he managed to get out, offering a hand. “D’Artagnan, Paris Ltd.”

 

“Milady de Winter, the Sheffield Trust.” Her handshake was warm and gentle. “You work with Treville, don’t you? I’ve heard good things about his department.”

 

This was so strange, she wasn’t behaving like the woman d’Artagnan had come to expect at all. Which was probably part of her game plan. He remembered to answer her, “Yeah, it’s, we do good work. I think so; it’s a good team to be part of.”

 

Her smile was sweet. “I hope the budget cuts won’t affect you too badly. From what I’ve heard, they could be quite substantial.”

 

There was the first knife. D’Artagnan didn’t flinch and tried really hard not to snap “There’s no news yet and Treville would tell us if there was.”

 

“I’m sure you’re right.” Milady looked him up and down with the sort of interest that made d’Artagnan brace himself. “Jacques does fine work, doesn’t he? He really does do menswear well, how do you find it compares with his gowns?”

 

D’Artagnan’s throat tightened. He received cruder crueller insults but there was something about Milady's tone, the way she held herself as she spoke, that made feel rigid and painfully uncomfortable. Maybe it was because he knew what she'd done, what she was capable of. He straightened slightly and tried to make himself relax, he tried to channel Ninon and not the fury and upset that he could feel sloshing around inside of him. He knew that if he got angry things would turn out badly, he had to remember that.

 

“Jacques is good at designing everything, it’s sickening,” he ground out.

 

Milady laughed. “And you’re lucky enough to wear a whole range of his work. I hear you make _quite_ the impression.”

 

D’Artagnan felt cold. Milady was just waiting for him to respond; if he got upset she could say that he clearly wasn’t mature enough to cope when something personal that he’d made public was discussed. But d’Artagnan could see something in the curve of Milady’s enquiring smile, something malicious was just tipping into view though it was gone just as quickly. His stomach dropped like a stone and he squeezed Ninon’s arm responsively.

 

“Thank you,” he said.

 

“Indeed, thank you, Anne.” Ninon had finished her own conversation and turned towards Milady. “Isn’t it wonderful, the work that Paris Ltd is doing, not only in technological advancements but in non-binary gender representation.”

 

Milady’s expression had cooled somewhat and she was regarding Ninon as though she’d quite like Ninon to disappear immediately. Ninon kept an even gaze and looked remarkably unaffected. Constance was keeping an eye on the situation, d’Artagnan noticed, her eyebrow raised in a question – did they need reinforcements? When Ninon didn’t summon her, Constance grabbed a fresh wine glass and continued networking, her gaze never far from d’Artagnan.

 

Athos was nowhere to be seen, neither was Porthos. He’d probably whisked Athos away somewhere, for safety’s sake. Milady’s expression became a warning.

 

“Such a pity that petition of yours didn’t progress, Ninon. A problem with the Cartwright board, wasn’t it? Some things just aren’t meant to be.”

 

Her words were delivered so amiably, as though she really was sorry for the problems Ninon had run into. She turned her gaze to d’Artagnan again.

 

“The Sheffield Trust really are making headway, Paris Ltd can only take you so far. It’s the sort of atmosphere that stifles creativity and fresh thinking, their record there speaks for itself. Keep in touch.”

 

Then she was gone, melting into the crowds. D’Artagnan felt stunned, like he wasn’t sure if what he’d just witnessed had been real. He wanted to press a hand to his clavicle and check if Athos was all right. That was who Athos had spent too many years with. D'Artagnan looked at Ninon, her mouth was set in a hard line.

 

“The perfect mind for corporate espionage,” she said succinctly. “Come on.”

 

She tugged d’Artagnan to his feet and led him over to the buffet again, to make sure that he was fed and watered. She held herself so perfectly, so prepared, able to verbally joust with anyone who wanted to say something about her research. It gave d'Artagnan the perfect cover to stand there and collect himself. Milady had been so calm and had behaved as though she was being completely rational. Something she'd said about Paris Ltd crushing creativity. D'Artagnan frowned, what had she meant?

 

A hand touched his back, then his arm. “Aftershocks?”

It was Constance, peering at him worriedly. D'Artagnan managed to smile. “She's unbelievable.”

 

Constance's expression communicated how true and unfortunate that was. “She's gone now, as far as we can tell, now that she's networked and sewn a few seeds. Porthos and Athos are chatting outside; Aramis is still working the floor.”

 

“And Jacques is getting more commissions?”

 

“Of course.” Constance slid a hand down her dress but her expression stayed serious. “Whatever she said, d'Artagnan-.”

 

“I know.” D'Artagnan knew that he didn't sound convincing so he kept talking. “I need some air and yeah...”

 

Constance's face pinched but she let him go. He passed Aramis as he made his way through the crowd, Aramis touched his elbow and glanced at him for a moment, d'Artagnan moved out of reach. His heartbeat felt like it was so loud in his ears; he kept expecting to see Milady, just waiting for him, her eyes earnest one moment and mocking the next. Then he was outside and there was Porthos, gesturing with a beer in hand as he talked to Athos. D'Artagnan let out a breath and quickly made for Athos' side.

 

Athos looked surprised then immediately alert. “What happened?”

 

“No, it's, I met Milady, she's gone now and I just...”

 

He let out another breath, almost a sigh, and Athos held out an arm, offering d'Artagnan space and warmth. D'Artagnan gratefully snuggled up against him, feeling instantly more solid. He could feel the ghost of Athos' lips against his head. There was a clink as Athos retrieved something from his pocket and dangled it in front of d'Artagnan's face. D'Artagnan frowned, almost going cross-eyed as he tried to work out what he was seeing. Was that his necklace, the one he wore on girl days?

 

“Do you need to-?”

 

D'Artagnan felt such a rush of affection, no, love, for Athos, reaching out a finger to touch the jewellery. “No. No, thank you, for asking and for bringing this just in case. I just...Milady said something and...”

 

“You should definitely ignore that,” Porthos announced, shoving his mobile phone into his pocket. “Seriously.”

 

Clapping Athos’ arm, he walked off without another word. Athos tucked the necklace away and tipped d’Artagnan’s chin upward so that they could see each other properly. D’Artagnan affected a smile.

 

“Ninon was amazing. I bet she was really good for you.”

 

Athos’ eyebrows twitched. “She was.”

 

And neither Athos nor Ninon seemed interested in saying anything more. It was like they’d scored a line under their relationship and weren’t willing to cross it again, even though Ninon clearly knew how to guide Athos away from Milady and through all of his associated despair and trauma, and even though Ninon relaxed around Athos, always so confident and sure of who and what she was. But maybe that wasn’t enough, not for them, not anymore. Ninon and Athos had made a decision, a choice, hadn't Athos respected d’Artagnan’s choices? D’Artagnan felt a pang at that; Athos had been _amazing_ about his choices, so completely accepting. And Ninon had said that she was happy Athos had chosen d’Artagnan because Athos looked happier with d'Artagnan than he had done with her. She definitely didn't seem like the kind of person who'd lie to make someone else feel better, not at all. She wanted Athos to be happy, D'Artagnan wanted Athos to be happy. He wanted Athos and despite everything Athos wanted him too.

 

Yes.

 

D'Artagnan pressed his expression into Athos' fingers that were still lingering around his jaw.

 

Athos’ other hand smoothed through d’Artagnan’s hair and down his back. D’Artagnan sighed with the movement.

 

“I like Ninon,” he said decisively.

 

He felt Athos smile against his scalp. Neither of them went back inside.

 

*

 

The next day, waking up in Athos’ bed, d’Artagnan muzzily looked up to find Athos thumbing through something on his phone. D’Artagnan nuzzled against Athos’ thigh, feeling pleasantly sore and like maybe he’d like to press kisses along the cording of Athos’ muscles. There was a feeling under d’Artagnan’s skin, shifting through him recognisably now, a feeling that made his eyes dart gratefully to Athos’ wardrobe and what d'Artagnan now kept in it. Athos’ fingers stroked through d’Artagnan’s hair.

 

“Ninon has invited us to lunch.”

 

D’Artagnan made a sound low in his throat. Athos sounded like he wanted to meet with his old friend and d’Artagnan remembered Porthos’ comment about Ninon having stories to tell about a younger Athos. He liked that idea. He thought that he’d maybe like seeing Ninon again too, since she wanted to see him. She was important to Athos and, thinking about how well she’d worked with Constance and how she’d handled Milady and interacted with Aramis and Porthos, d’Artagnan could see her becoming important to him too.

 

“I assume that’s a yes.”

 

Athos sounded amused and his phone clattered down onto the bedside cabinet a few moments later. D’Artagnan set about his kissing plan, drawing wonderful noises out of Athos. D’Artagnan angled himself deeper and swallowed down Athos’ cock, determined to enjoy himself and wind enjoyment around Athos. They both deserved it after their previous evening, though it’d ended very nicely for them – coming back to Athos’ flat, Athos kissing d’Artagnan fiercely and worshipfully in alternate measures as they'd fumbled their way upstairs and into Athos’ bed. D’Artagnan had sat astride Athos and had ridden him gleefully, triumphantly, watching as Athos had craned his neck, sound spilling out of him uncontrollably. Later Athos had rolled d’Artagnan under him, d’Artagnan’s legs wrapping tightly around him, and had thrust until d’Artagnan had been breathless with want and pleasure.

 

Now, d’Artagnan sucked and moaned until Athos tugged his hair in warning and came down d’Artagnan’s throat. D’Artagnan levered himself up, wiping his mouth clean and smiling. Athos looked at him with a warm fond smile that dove right through d’Artagnan and reached as though he was about to return the favour but then d’Artagnan’s cock twitched and his face twisted uncomfortably. He’d been able to forget it, to some degree, when it was trapped beneath him against the bed, but not so much now. D’Artagnan bit his lip, something ugly twisting through him, frustration and discontent. Even though Athos had been nothing but supportive of d’Artagnan’s continual exploration of his own gender d’Artagnan still often felt like a burden, a problem.

 

Athos froze and looked at him for a moment. “Time for the necklace?”

 

D’Artagnan managed a nod and “I’m sorry, I-.”

 

“Never apologise for being you, d’Artagnan.” Athos’ gaze was firm as he stroked affectionate fingers down d’Artagnan’s side.

 

D’Artagnan kissed him long and sweet and then scrambled of the bed towards the wardrobe. Something simple like wearing the right clothing made all the difference. He’d acquired more underwear, thanks to Constance and Athos, and now chose to pull on a smooth satiny cream and brown set. The bra was padded and sat comfortably against his chest. As he reached into the wardrobe for the dress he’d decided on, he could feel Athos’ hot gaze on him. D’Artagnan let out a small sound but determinedly tugged the dress on. It was green, tucked in at the waist and showed off his legs but was also generally modest. D’Artagnan didn’t like thin straps or plunging necklines. He knew what he liked when he looked in the mirror.

 

Athos smoothed a hand past d’Artagnan’s waist as he reached for dark jeans and a button-down shirt, he’d probably roll the sleeves up past his elbows. D’Artagnan was very aware of Athos’ body and how good it felt against his. He thought about how only a few weeks ago Athos had mouthed along the band of d’Artagnan’s bra, his hands caressing the lacy cups, reverent and hungry. The sight and feel of that moment had overwhelmed d’Artagnan. His cock twitched again now as he thought about it and d’Artagnan grimaced. He nudged Athos away reluctantly.

 

“Not helping.”

 

Athos pressed an apologetic kiss to d’Artagnan’s neck. “I’ll make breakfast.”

 

There were plenty of eggs in the fridge and some sausages and leftover bacon. D’Artagnan perched his feet in Athos’ lap and ate voraciously. Constance and Aramis had texted him, wanting to check on him. Athos ran a hand across the arch of d’Artagnan’s left foot.

 

“Ninon says she’ll meet us at Marko’s.”

 

A very good choice, d’Artagnan loved their pasta. Now he frowned slightly, his fingers instinctively curling into the dress’ fabric.

 

“D’Artagnan?”

 

D’Artagnan glanced up at Athos, that ugly feeling quietly starting to curl through him again because Ninon, he liked her and she was important. Fear and worry clenched at him in a very familiar way, what if...

 

“Is Ninon…I mean, will she mind?”

 

Athos glanced at how d’Artagnan was clutching the dress and then gently pressed his hand to d’Artagnan’s fingers.

 

“Her think tank has spearheaded research into gender and sexuality for years. I doubt you’ll meet anyone more academically equipped to talk to you today, or not talk to you if you prefer.”

 

Right. Of course. Ninon probably knew more about what d’Artagnan was going through than he did. A sour feeling made itself known but d’Artagnan pushed it away.

 

Athos drew him into a gentle kiss and stroked a thumb across d’Artagnan’s cheekbones.

 

Later, he clasped the necklace around d’Artagnan’s neck and touched a finger to the jewel that hung from the delicate chain.

 

At Marko’s, Ninon was waiting for them. She was wearing a striking blue and white patterned dress with wedge-heeled shoes. She kissed Athos’ cheek and then d’Artagnan’s. Her gaze took him in briskly and she squeezed his hand.

 

“You wear it well.”

 

D'Artagnan smiled and kissed her cheek in return, gratitude and admiration gripping him. Ninon's hair was loose and she told Athos that Aramis and Porthos would be joining them post-lunch. Apparently she’d spent the night with them, which confirmed a few of d’Artagnan’s vaguer suspicions. Athos looked both amused and resigned, not jealous or yearning in the least.

 

“I only ask that they’re fit enough to actually work on Monday,” he said.

 

Ninon laughed and d’Artagnan smiled at how uncoiled she seemed, maybe because of Aramis and Porthos or maybe because she was spending time with Athos or both. She’d been so precise and utterly focused the previous evening, feinting and parrying, observing everything and making sure that her voice was heard by the right people. She’d planted seeds, like Milady though for very different reasons. Ninon was a lot like Athos too, wasn't she; both were dedicated to their jobs, probably too dedicated sometimes, d’Artagnan could see Ninon running herself into the ground for what she thought was important, just like Athos did. But not now, now they were both relaxed, unclasped, and d’Artagnan was very glad and humbled by that. He was allowed to see this.

 

He wondered how often Ninon and Athos talked, how often she shared a bed with Aramis and Porthos or a meal with Constance and Jacques. He hoped she had a lot of people in her life that made her relaxed and happy; she deserved that and more. He shifted and felt Athos pull one of d’Artagnan’s sandal-clad feet up into his lap. Ninon signalled to the waiter that they were ready to order and shared a small knowing look with d’Artagnan.

 

“Lucky girl.”

 

Yes, right then, with Athos’ hand warm on his skin, skin that currently felt pretty good, d’Artagnan was.

 

_-the end_


End file.
